I Swear, This Can't Be Happening
by Bronwyn.B
Summary: When Rachel returns to La Push after three long years at college, it doesn't take her long to start noticing the secrets her father and brother are trying to keep from her. And when a mysterious young man starts showing up wherever she goes, Rachel knows she's in trouble.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Chapter 2 will be added by the end of the week: I'm half way through it now xx

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

Ok, two days here and I was starting to remember just why I left.

All my old memories I'd buried in the back of my mind were resurfacing and forcing their way to the front. Every good, bad and even downright embarrassing memories from my childhood and pre-college years were whirling around my head, with no chance of me catching them all again.

Either way, trying to go back to sleep while lying on an air mattress at half past six in the morning isn't the easiest thing to do, especially if it's very uncomfortable and if you are convinced, like I am, that it is slowly deflating beneath you.

As soon as my fingers touched the wooden floor, I was utterly convinced.

I sat up and grabbed the first item of clothing I could lay my hands on, and quickly made my way to the bathroom. I washed in silence and brushed my hair, pulling it back it back in a low ponytail, and pulled my shoes on by the back door. If I listen carefully, I can hear Dad's snores from here. Annoying, but strangely comforting…

_Unlike_ the fact that Dad seemed oblivious to Jake leaving the house at night and not returning 'til the next morning. That in itself doesn't seem so bad – but combine it with both of us sitting there in the living room both times and _seeing_ him leave, and you know something's up. AND they both act like nothing's happened the next morning when Jake's then eating half a box of cereal.

I tiptoed back up the hallway and pushed his door open slowly… Nothing. Bed empty, window closed, and the mysterious odour of dirty socks. I groaned and stomped outside, through the rain-covered grass that attached itself to my shoe laces, glittered in the early morning clouds. I half-ran along the road shrouded by tree tops until I broke out into the open air, the trees all behind me now, and the salty air blowing against my skin.

Ahh… I breathed it in and slowed down to a snail's pace as I followed the main road along the ocean front.

As I stepped onto the pebbly beach, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I registered someone off to my far right, the opposite direction in which I'd come. I ignored them and continued walking, past all the houses and little shops, until I was a stone's throw from the murky surf. I leant back against the nearest washed-up log and combed my hair out with my fingers.

The 'person' shifted in my line of vision so that I could see him out of the corner of my eye – oh yes, it was a him...

About damn time too! I swear I hadn't even _touched_ a guy in the last few months leading up to graduation. Oh how intriguing the male anatomy was, especially this guy… Tall, buff, nice hair… everything a girl could ever want in a potential life mate – physically of course. It took some medium to serious intellect on the man's part to impress me though, because (yes, obviously) I'm hard to please when it comes to males.

Like any girl, I prefer the man to have some sort of muscle that is actually toned and visible, and I wouldn't mind a six-pack… or an eight-pack… mmmmm…

Mr. Hopefully-Right definitely had some things going for him. Except the whole 'no shirt' thing. That's just stupid. Only idiots walk around in the rain topless.

"Hey." OH MY GOD! He was right next to me, like, two feet away and I didn't notice! I am such a douche.

"Uh, hi," I mustered, barely more than a whisper. I played with the ends of my hair as I turned my head and scanned him feet first.

By the time I made it to his chin two seconds later, I could tell he was looking at me with a slightly weird, mostly curious, and a tad cocky expression, obviously knowing I'd stopped for a fraction of a second longer than I should have when I spotted his torso.

His face when I actually looked at it was priceless though – his deep brown eyes widened for a split second, his pupils dilated, his mouth which looked ready to pronounce some words stopped and opened a little, revealing his perfectly straight white teeth, and his eyebrows (though I don't know why I was looking there) became raised as he looked at me.

"Are you ok?" I asked him slowly, snapping my fingers in the space between us twice. He blinked and looked straight in my eyes, smiling crookedly and pushing his hands in his pockets.

There were two things wrong with this scene: firstly, I had never met anyone who would look in another person's eyes for more than two seconds at a time when talking, yet this… man-boy seemed perfectly comfortable just staring, and secondly, I would never ever call a smile 'crooked' (it usually entails a lopsided smile that was adorably cute). Yet I did with him… Whenever I try to imagine a crooked smile on someone's face, all I ever see is a witch or a crazy man in a horror film who may or may not have recently escaped from a mental asylum.

"Yeah, I'm great actually." We didn't say anything for a few more seconds before he practically thrust his hand in my face. "I'm Paul."

I took it gingerly and shook it, looking from his hand to his face. "I'm Rachel…"

Ok, this was really awkward…

I straightened my back and held my head a little higher as we examined one another, though I could almost feel his eyes wandering over my body, lingering on my legs and my breasts before returning to my face, or more precisely, the lower half.

"Wait, wait, wait. Are you… checking me out?" I asked incredulously.

He just laughed. Great. I say one thing and I get laughed at by a complete stranger!

"Well aren't you doing the same to me?" he chuckled in his deep, slightly husky voice. I considered it and tilted my head to the side momentarily, shrugging my shoulders in a 'what're you gonna do?' sort of way.

"Maybe… but that wasn't the question… And why am I still holding your hand?" I pulled mine away slowly, though this Paul man appeared a bit reluctant.

"Probably 'cus you think I'm hot," he grinned crookedly (again, why?).

"Oh ha ha!" I couldn't help but laugh too as he stood there so confidently beside me. "Never know, do ya?" I asked coyly.

Oh my, this was, uh, a little awkward, yet oddly comfortable at the same time. I couldn't help but smile to myself as I looked around and saw that the beach was completely deserted, save for us.

"So, Rachel," he sounded out, moving a foot closer and leaning back against the log next to me. I could feel his warmth inches from me. "You're from around here, aren't you?"

I cleared my throat quietly before replying, "Yeah, I just finished college, so I'm back at my dad's place."

"Which one did you go to?" Paul asked, crossing his arms over his well-defined chest. He seemed genuinely interested in what I'd spent the last three years of my life learning about. Usually when I told people that I'd been to college, they just moved the conversation on to more interesting topics.

"Um, Washington State - I had a scholarship. It's really good there actually. And my major was great too," I finished quickly.

"Why? What did you take? Business, science?" Wow, hot guy who wasn't a complete dunce.

"Nope, computer engineering actually. With a minor in history." I paused for a few seconds and turned my head slightly to catch a glimpse of this man's expression, but instead I saw his whole face watching me intently. I flushed under his gaze and the corner of his mouth pulled upwards. "I wanted to be a teacher, but I was offered another job, so… Yeah, that's about it…"

"Really?" Paul laughed again. "Nothing happened the whole time you were there?" His jokey mood conjured up a slide-show of all the events that took place while I was there, such as when some idiot thought it would be funny to let some chickens loose in the dorm.

"Just, uh, regular college stuff…" Like when my friend's boyfriend was napping on my bed in Speedos. That's just… ew. Though that did remind me of what Paul was wearing right now, since I was on the subject.

"Why are you only wearing shorts?" I demanded suddenly, eyeing the frayed hems and faded colour. He looked down and back to me slowly.

"Just am." Alrighty then, maybe I was wrong about him, maybe he was a little demented. "Why are you wearing a scarf? It's June already." Paul reached out and tugged on the end a little as I watched.

"Because I want to, and it's raining a bit, and it's a nice scarf," I rambled a little, seizing it back and straightening it out. "It's not exactly a woolly knitted scarf anyway."

"Hey, do you have a watch?" Paul asked me after a minute of silence. I looked down at my right wrist and started to lift it up, but Paul obviously couldn't wait that long! No, he had to wrap his hand around my arm and pull it up really quickly so I twisted, losing my balance and fell into him.

"Hmm, 7:05," he murmured. DID THIS GUY NOT NOTICE ME COLLAPSED AGAINST HIS EXTREMELY NICE CHEST?

I panted in deep uneven breaths, not even bothering to push myself away as I stood there, leaning against him with him still holding onto my arm. I closed my eyes and bit the bottom of my lip for a second. I really _didn't_ want to move; it was so warm here, and I could feel his body heat creeping through my thin layers of clothing and thawing me out. In fact, I actually moved closer, shrinking into him as my free hand traced the soft lines of his stomach before flattening against his side. My breathing quietened as we stood there, and I could feel Paul's hot breath against my scalp, and his hand quietly sneaking up to my waist.

As soon as that happened, I came to my senses, backing away so there several feet between us, and ripping my wrist from his grip. Well, when I say ripping, I mean tugging it until he let go.

"What am I doing?" I breathed to myself, clutching my head between my hands. Me, him, ugh, I don't know what to do! I've just met him on a beach in the early morning while he's wearing hardly anything. That was definitely not normal!

"Hey, are you ok, Rachel?" he asked me in a low voice, stepping forward and touching my shoulder. I peered up at Paul as he stood there transfixed, waiting for me to say respond. I squeezed my eyes shut, opened them and sniffed once.

"Yeah, I'm good," I nodded, meeting his gaze. I couldn't help but smile a little when I saw his concerned face watching me cautiously. "I-I should get home soon, I mean, before Jake eats all the cereal again," I tried to laugh. It sounded really stupid though, and I cussed myself silently as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

Paul was frozen when I looked at him again, but he blinked before I could open my mouth, and looked slightly confused for a moment, like he was thinking about something quickly.

"Crap," he breathed, just loud enough for me to hear.

"What?" I asked, jumping on it immediately.

"Uh, nothing–"

"No, what do you mean 'crap'?" I demanded, frowning up at him.

"I'll, uh, tell you later, or, uh, yeah…"

"Tell me what, Paul?" I asked, stepping back again, away from his hand which had dropped down my arm a little.

"I shouldn't tell you yet, but I will," he added quickly when he registered my expression.

"Yeah, great, well I'm gonna go now," I informed Paul, turning on my heels and walking back up the beach. "Bye Paul," I muttered.

"Wait Rachel," he called. He appeared before me, walking backwards as I angrily stomped on. "I'll tell you everything you want to know, just not right now." I looked off to my left, trying to ignore him. "I promise, Rachel."

I stopped mid-step and studied his face, trying to find any sign of a lie, but he looked completely sincere.

"Everything?" I asked skeptically.

"Everything," he repeated.

I nodded slowly and my lips twitched slightly. "I'm holding you that promise, Paul whatever-your-name-is."

"Lahote."

"Good to know."

"Can I walk you back then?" he asked me quietly.

"Sure, why not?" I grinned.

The walk back to my house didn't take very long, and somehow, once we'd started talking, we didn't stop. Sure, Paul wasn't the brightest tool in the box, but he definitely knew how to make me laugh.

As we turned onto the dirt road that ran up to my house, I kept brushing Paul's hand with my own. Unintentionally, of course, but I turned just after him so we were even closer. He just smiled a little and kept talking, but I could feel my cheeks burning as I dug my hands into my jacket pockets, trying not to clue him in.

When the old, red house was in sight, I noticeably slowed, wanting to waste as much time as possible before my day reverted to the same pattern as yesterday: boring and predictable.

"I guess we're here then…" I sighed, both of us coming to a standstill just outside.

"Yep…" Paul nodded.

"I'll see you around, right?" I asked quickly, turning to face him again.

"Course," he grinned.

I fidgeted for a moment, unsure what to do, so I decided to do exactly the same thing Paul had done when he introduced himself.

I offered my hand for him to shake. He just smirked down at it and took it, but instead of doing what a normal person would do and _shake_ it, he pulled me to him and actually hugged me. I couldn't say I minded either; he was so warm and familiar (somehow). I hugged him back, pulling him close with my arms around his middle, for a few seconds until I decided that was probably the longest anyone could have a friendly hug for. I stepped back and flashed him my best smile before walking up the steps. I stopped and twisted around when I was one from the top, a question on the tip of my tongue.

"Hey," I called back to him when I noticed he'd started to walk away. He looked over his shoulder at me and stopped. He raised an eyebrow and waited for me to speak. "I have one question. Will you answer it?"

"Depends what it is?" I was not impressed and it clearly showed. "Fire away."

"Are you on steroids?" I asked, taking in his body-builder stature. He looked fit and strong and all, but it didn't look overdone or creepy or anything.

Paul just laughed at me. Again.

"I'm taking that as a no," I grumbled. I rolled my eyes as I walk backwards up the last step.

"What made you think I was?" he continued to laugh.

I huffed and shook my head. "Ah, well, I guess you're pretty hot then… Goodbye…"

"Bye Rachel…" I pushed the door open and stole one last glimpse of him before I walked through the house to the kitchen.

"Morning," I said as I grabbed a glass and a bowl from the cupboard. Jake was back, leaning against the counter eating a massive bowl of cornflakes. The box sat next to him looking suspiciously empty.

"Did you eat all of them again?" I seethed.

Jacob shrugged at me and looked down into the box. His eyes wandered as he continued to munch on his breakfast.

I snatched the box off the side and looked too. "Stop eating everything already!" I flicked his ear for good measure and poured the pathetic amount of cereal into my bowl, adding half a carton of milk so it actually looked like something worth eating.

"It's not my fault you didn't get up earlier," he muttered.

"Actually, I did!" I pointed out, jumping on the opportunity. "And you weren't here! Now tell me, why is that?"

Jake looked across the kitchen at me. "Running," he declared simply.

"Running? Seriously?" I _so_ did not believe him.

"Uh huh, lots of running. Ever gone running in the forest?"

"No, not really."

"It's not that bad actually," he said thoughtfully.

"So you went running… in a forest… at six in the morning?" I said slowly, repeating the facts.

"Mm-hmm," he nodded with a mouthful of cornflakes.

"And I'm guessing you have running shoes too?"

"Nope."

Well that's helpful.

"So – just let me get this straight – you go running every morning before anyone else is awake in a forest that's probably filled with killer bears and stuff?"

"Killer bears?" Jake laughed.

"Not funny, and yeah! Killer bears! I called the INTERNET, idiot. I know about those people who went missing around here and Forks!" I shouted at him.

"That stopped months ago, Rach, so calm down. There's nothing that's exactly dangerous out there," he laughed again, though this time much more sourly.

"Fine, be like that." I grabbed my bowl of milk and exited to the living room where I'd left one of my books from last night. I sat down heavily and sulked quietly while eating my cereal.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** You have no idea how long it's taken me to finish this chapter today. It is 23:06 where I am, lying on my bed in my pjs while my parents and brothers are just going to sleep. And I haven't even begun my essay which has to be handed in tomorrow morning when I only found out about it today at work. Perfect. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and hopefully it was worth the numb feet. bb. xx

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Ok, let's get something straight.

No one in their right minds let their son do a runner and DOESN'T LOOK FOR HIM! I mean, what kind of father _does that?_ I fully support Charlie right now, but unless I sneak out in the middle of the night, there's no way I'm going to be able to stick any fliers up, and I know that as soon as he found out, they would all come down.

So basically, there's no point in trying to find out where Jacob's gone.

Wrong.

My brother. My business. End of.

There's got to be someone who has the _slightest _inkling as to where he could have disappeared to. It's not like we live in the middle of nowhere… And yet, no one seems to know. Anything. At all.

Really? Is this how people around here behave? I think not. Sure, I may not have been here for a while, but it can't have changed that much. I asked Sue the other day, and she didn't seem to know a thing. In fact, she actually said, "Don't worry Rachel, I'm sure he'll turn up soon. He can't have gone that far." I knew she was reassuring herself as well though. She seemed just as worried as me, only… it felt like there was a slight difference between what we were worrying about.

Ugh, my god. I can't… think. It's been almost three days since he's gone. Four days… the day after I met Paul. Something's different about him. He just doesn't seem like the other guys, like… I don't know. There's something unusual going on though. I'm going to have to find out soon, what's really happened, I mean. I've never seen people act like this before. It was as if they were pretending nothing had happened. Maybe they _thought_ nothing had happened. They didn't know…

So, no one knows he's gone? Just me, and Dad, and Sue and her kids, and a man called Sam. I've seen him come over here, and I heard him and Dad talking. Maybe he thought I wasn't in, or he wasn't worried about me hearing. But, when he saw me, they acted like they hadn't been talking about anything important.

I only heard the end of the first conversation, and part of the second. The first time, I'd gone to get some more cereal: there wasn't any left. All eaten. This was just after Jacob had gone. I walked up the drive, unaware of anything, lost in my thoughts. And I saw a t-shirt, lying on the grass, completely soaked. I was soaked too, but I was wearing a coat. So why would he leave a t-shirt? It's completely irrational. You wear clothes outside, don't you? And you don't just leave something behind, like you've forgotten about it. So I walked over to it and bent down to pick it up. My knee was a little wet, but I ignored that. I was more interested in the t-shirt.

There could be plenty of reasons it was there: maybe Jake had gone down to his shed, changed into a dry t-shirt and accidentally dropped this one on the way back. Or… I don't know. It can't have been dropped when someone was getting the laundry in, because the line was on the porch, where the clothes wouldn't get wet if it started to rain a little, but… what other reasons were there? He had either taken it off, or it had been dropped, and neither of my explanations were very likely.

I had to shake it out with one hand, the other clutching a plastic bag with my cereal and a few other groceries. Water droplets flew everywhere, and I clutched it in my fist as I walked back up to the house. I managed to open the door and kick my shoes off just inside, then wander through to the kitchen where I stopped abruptly. My dad was in his wheel-chair besides two men, both with the same physical characteristics as Paul; tall, well-defined muscles, short dark hair and brown eyes that glanced over to me as I was saying, "I got some fruit-loops, so don't…"

I trailed off and examined both men closely. One was slightly taller than the other, although both were unusually tall, and the shorter one had a slightly rounder face. He looked like he smiled a lot, though he wasn't smiling now, and his hair was slightly spiked from where he'd been running his hand over it. The taller seemed older and had more prominent cheekbones and a stronger jaw line. Something gave off the aura of authority that I'd never felt before. "Hello…" I murmured, looking down as I dropped the bag on the side and pulled my hood down. They both greeted me back, looking sombre and slightly… sad. Something bad had happened. I didn't want to know what.

"Rachel, this is Sam Uley." My dad gestured to the older one. He was definitely over 6 feet tall. Maybe 6'5'', 6'6'', somewhere around there. I felt like I'd heard his name before, maybe his surname. That stood out more for me, like it had been lingering in the back of my mind from a long time ago. "And this is Jared Cameron."

"Hi," I smiled weakly and bit my lips together. I felt awkward around them, it wasn't normal. Jared was a few inches shorter than Sam from where I was standing, and he had his arms crossed loosely, studying my face, but with familiarity as if he'd seen it before. I wouldn't be surprised: I'd been into La Push for a walk around and to buy food a few times, so he had probably seen me from a distance. He smiled back at me, wider than I had and with more ease.

Sam held his hand out to shake mine and I raised my right hand automatically, but stopped when I realised that I was still holding the damp t-shirt. We all looked at it as I stretched it out and studied it mournfully. It was almost as if I knew what they were going to say. That my brother had done something, or something bad had happened to him.

"Rachel…" my dad began warily.

"I found it outside in the grass," I told them before they had the chance to ask me where it came from. "Someone must have dropped it." _Jake_. Where was he? Why wasn't he here? He said he'd be here when I got back and we'd make lunch, meaning I cook, he eats. But he wasn't.

No one said anything for a few minutes as I shoved the t-shirt in the washing machine and shrugged my jacket off, hanging it over the back of a chair. Billy and Sam were looking at each other, having a silent conversation. Billy finally nodded and looked over at me, his dark eyes sad and a little pained.

"Rachel–" he said again, but I cut him off quickly.

"Where's Jake?" I asked, my hand on my hip and my face locked with a blank expression.

"Can we go into the living room?" Dad asked me, his voice weary as he wheeled himself towards me.

"No, tell me what happened," I objected. I refused to move as three pairs of eyes watched me, all concerned.

"Rachel." My dad's voice grew sterner and he looked up at me with a resolute stare, telling me that I wouldn't get far just standing there. My eyes narrowed and I folded my arms across my chest, finally turning on my heel and stalking out of the room. Dad followed behind until it was just the two of us, the two tall men standing alone in the kitchen. They hadn't made a sound since I'd walked through the door, and I got the feeling they weren't going to soon. They were more likely to leave before they said anything in my hearing range. Maybe the three of them were keeping something from me, possibly worse than I'd imagined so far.

Billy gestured towards the sofa and I sat reluctantly. This was bad. It's always something bad if he makes you sit down. There's never anything good. I opened my mouth to speak but Dad raised his hand, halting me immediately. I tried again, but a glance from him as he manoeuvred himself to the other side of the coffee table told me that my efforts were utterly pointless. I was not going to get a word edgeways in the next ten minutes. So I sat back, rubbing the nail on one finger with the other hand as I watched him nervously.

"Before I tell you, promise me you won't overreact." His resolved stare made it impossible to pretend not to hear him. I would have to react somehow though, and depending on the situation, overreact had… different connotations.

"Sure, fine, I promise," I muttered, looking away from him. The momentary expression on his face told me he didn't fully believe me.

He grumbled in response and waited a few seconds before replying, most likely thinking about how to phrase his statement. "Rachel, Jacob has… decamped."

"Decamped?" Excuse me? Decamped: to leave abruptly or in secret.

"He's run off somewhere."

Much better.

"_He's what?"_ That little piece of _shit_! The next time I see him… "I'm gonna _kill_ that boy!" What was he even thinking? I stood up and paced to the far wall and back to the front door. "Who knocked my Napoleon book on the floor?" I shouted, picking it up and holding it tightly to my chest. Billy, being the impartial observer that he is, just stayed where he was a sighed with disappointment as he watched me sink to the ground and pull my knees up to my chest, effectively pinning my book there, muttering profanities under my breath. He shook his head and disappeared back into the kitchen, and I could hear him talking to Sam and Jared.

"She'll calm down soon," he said quietly.

"No I won't!" I shouted back, throwing the closest shoe I could find across the room, hitting the wall with a bang. "And don't even think about saying the v-word!" Venting, my ass. I was long past venting. Venting implies that I have strong feelings that I wish to release onto something else, such as cooking something in order to channel anxiety. I wasn't venting; I was furious.

The three of them left me in peace as I seethed silently on the hallway floor. I was there for a long time, unaware of how much time had actually passed until Jared appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. He looked at me for a moment before walking over and leaning against the wall opposite.

"I must've knocked your book over earlier," he said quietly and giving me a small smile. "Sorry about that."

I looked up at him and rested my chin on my knee. I just let out a puff of air and barely nodded by a tiny increment. "S'ok," I murmured.

"So how long have you been back in La Push?" Didn't I answer that question yesterday? Oh no, I answered a _similar_ question, although this one felt like it was a continuation.

"Just three days," I answered solemnly. Three days, was that really all it had been? It felt like so much longer. I hadn't really done much, but repeatedly leaving the house everyday made me feel like I'd been here for a long time. The memories of everything I saw that were continuously clogging up my thought processes didn't help very much. When I saw the school, I thought of mine and Rebecca's graduation. I saw the general store where I had my first job, and the marina where Dad used to moor his boat. He used to take us out on it when we were younger, before his diabetes progressed to the point he wasn't able to walk properly any longer.

"Wow, only three days…" Jared said to himself.

"Hey, have I met you before?" He shook his head and gave me a questioning look. "It's just… you keep giving me weird looks…" He looked momentarily confused.

"Have I?"

"Just a little." He shrugged and rested his head back against the wall. We stayed like that for a little while as my dad and Sam continued to talk in the kitchen.

I exhaled loudly at the ceiling, looking for something interesting to study. Jared caught my eye again as I noticed him watching me. Not him too.

"By any chance, do you know…" I couldn't bring myself to say his name. The cloud I had been floating on since yesterday morning had been abruptly burst and I didn't want to dredge something up that could possibly make me feel worse than I did now. It would just remind me how crappy my life had become.

Damn him and his staring eyes! He just watched me, obviously amused that I wasn't able to say his name. I bet he knew who I was thinking of too. It would be just my luck. If he knew, others were bound to know too, because I knew for a fact that males in general found it almost impossible to keep secrets, for example, Quil and Embry. Oh Embry… it had been so long… I could easily wait a while longer though to be honest. And Quil… the last time I'd seen him, he had the sweetest little chubby cheeks. So long ago…

"You know," I prompted, hoping he would be able to say the name for me. I even made a 'P' with my fingers, strongly hinting his name. "He looks just a little like you, you know? Tall, big muscles, walks around in shorts…"

"I have no idea who you're on about, Rachel," he smiled easily. Liar.

"Oh my god…" I grumbled, covering my eyes with my hand and rubbing them a little. "Paul! You know Paul? Freakishly tall, brown eyes, hair…" I drifted off into my memories about him, like I was seeing him all over again. "But kinda cocky too," I added, snapping back into reality.

"Cocky?" Jared repeated, chuckling quietly.

"Yeah, it's not always a good thing…" Being overly confident was a huge turn-off for me. I couldn't _stand_ guys who were arrogant about their appearance or intellect.

"It's not?"

"No…"

"I'll pass that on," he assured me, leaning forward and nodding his head slightly. Lying little cheaters…

"I'm watching you…" I hissed, retreating into my shell and blocking my face, with the exception of my eyes and forehead, from view once again.

Enter Dad, being pushed by Sam. Which reminded me that my brother had done a runner, and I had been sat here talking about a guy with another guy. An obviously heterosexual guy who knew the guy I had been rambling on about. And was most likely going to tell him what I had said, because guys can't keep secrets.

I made small grumbling noises and glared up at Jared, shaking my head almost inconspicuously, which he noticed and started laughing inwardly about. _Men…_ You really cannot trust them to keep something private and not laugh about it afterwards. Serves me right for losing focus on the problem at hand, I must say.

The two of them left shortly afterwards and I was left alone with my father, which caused me to lock myself in my scarcely furnished bedroom for the remainder of the day, sans bathroom breaks and the occasional visit to the kitchen to fetch drinks and snacks. I left Billy to his own devices and refused the offer of dinner when he knocked on my door. In fact, I made sure he wouldn't have been able to open the door via the use of my feet, pushing it away from me and into the doorframe. He gave up after ten minutes and informed me that if I was hungry, there was a plate in the fridge, ready for me to re-heat at my leisure.

I've been in here since then, not speaking directly to my only family member in close proximity since, because he is being an idiot by refusing to participate in the locating of his only son and youngest child. I know this because Charlie dropped by the other day and tried to convince him with the fliers which resulted in a minor argument with Dad finally accepting a few fliers and then conclusively putting them in the trash, which I found late last night when I got a craving for hot chocolate and was throwing away an empty milk carton (real hot chocolate is made with milk, not water). They were already ruined by that time, with a few chunks of potato attached to the top few, so of course there are no salvageable fliers at my disposal.

I doubt I'm going to come out for a reasonable length of time in the foreseeable future, unless of course, Jacob does decide now would be a good time to come back home for me to strangle him. Unlikely, but I shall keep my hopes up, and maybe my willpower will be communicated to him and he will feel the need to return and meet his untimely demise.

Ever the optimist.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I realise it's been over a year since I updated either of my stories, and for that I am truly, _truly_ sorry. A lot has changed since then, and I know it's no excuse, so I'm working on these stories whenever possible which is probably the cause of my recent insomnia. Once you've read this new chapter, I'm hoping for suggestions as to whether you would prefer all chapters from Rachel's POV, or an additional chapter behind-the-scenes at Sam and Emily's house. Leave a comment and in the meantime, I'll try and get both done just in case. BB xx

P.S. I just noticed a slight continuity error - sorry!

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

_Thunk._ I dropped a jar of peanut butter into my basket among the several cans of soups and fruit I had already collected. Yes, I know, not particularly exciting or overly appetising, but most of what I had picked up was healthier than the food I suspect Dad usually ate.

It's been eleven days since Jacob ran off, or to put it in Billy's terms,_decamped_ and in that time I have realised two things. Well, technically three, but for now I've decided to concentrate on the first two. Firstly, if Jake had planned on coming back home, then really he would have done by now. Instead he's god-knows-where gallivanting about doing god-knows-what leaving Dad and I befuddled and attempting to continue out regular routines without him. If he has the sense, that kid will avoid me once he's back unless he wants me to haul ass and throttle him once he reappears.

The second thing was the need to find a job and soon. While the offer of an interview at a publishing company in Seattle still remained, maintaining their software naturally, much more dawdling would undoubtedly remove that card from the table. So I needed to find something quickly and preferably not in this area.

One of my friends from college is currently apartment-hunting in Seattle (perfect for the above job opportunity) and wants me to live with her. I said yes. Honestly, it was a toss-up between living rent-free while unemployed on a slowly dwindling bank balance and holding an unused degree, or losing a large portion of my savings to rent half of an apartment while searching for a job to cover the bills. Logically, I went for the second option that would leave me almost broke but with some decent prospects. And anyway, if I can't find anything after a few weeks, going back to waitressing short-term will not be the end of the world. Kerry has predicted that she will have found us a decent place by mid-July so long as I have my half of the deposit ready. So rather than waiting until just before leaving, I've decided to stock up on a few items of food for Dad each week rather than attempting on massive shop. Well, when I say stocking up, Dad or Sue will have to make sure he has plenty of fresh vegetables and fruit each week. Oh yes, and meat, although I suppose I could buy some of that too and freeze it… Either way, whatever I buy Dad is better than him ordering pizza like he attempted to last week.

By the time I've finished filling up my shopping basket and heave it up beside the checkout, it's one pm and I am exhausted. I'm slightly disappointed when I don't recognise the girl scanning my items – last week it was Joy Ateara and we ended up chatting for a good half hour before we realised something was melting in my bags.

I push my glasses up my nose, hoist the two paper grocery bags into my arms and stride out toward the truck. Only, when I got there I realised that the car keys were in my pocket, and getting them out would involve vast amounts of wriggling, dropping and cussing before succeeding. "Oh, perfect…"

"Want a hand?" My nerves nearly forced me out of my skin as the owner of that voice crept up behind me. It sounded so familiar, yet… I swivelled around on the spot to face the mysterious male.

"Holy shit, Embry?" I was surprised to barely recognise him as he eased a bag from my arms with a small grin, his once long hair had been sheared off leaving it fairly short. He'd also grown more than eight inches and lost all the baby fat from his cheeks since I'd last seen him nearly three years ago. I shouldn't have been surprised as I was given the time span, but I couldn't suppress the urge to gawk at him.

"Hey Rachel," he greeted in turn, obviously amused by my reaction. Even his voice had changed, becoming deeper, more even. The air about him radiated some kind of confidence, and truth be told I could see why. How could he not have any self-esteem with a face and physique like that? And his arms, _wow_… his short-sleeved t-shirt revealed well-muscled arms few people would expect to see on a seventeen year old, because _by god_ they were impressive. I just wanted to reach out and touch that bicep… Thankfully I managed to restrain myself and not act the fool but one thing was for sure: Embry was not a pretty boy.

He was a man. A damn good-looking one too at that.

"Rach, are you feeling alright?" So maybe I had been standing there in silence… In truth, episodes such as these had drastically increased in frequency recently, having been quite uncommon prior to graduation. Of all the situations in which this could occur though, it was unusual: Embry had been my brother's friend since they were babies, so naturally I had become well acquainted with him in those years. I suppose we were friends of sorts too, but I wasn't sure how these intervening years would have affected that.

"I'm fine," I stated quickly, tucking a pesky strand of hair behind my ear. "It's just… you look _different_."

Embry shrugged nonchalantly. "I was fourteen last time you were here. I've grown up a bit since then."

"Oh, I know," I agreed, nodding my head slowly and unable to disguise my surprise. Embry didn't stop smiling as I turned and unlocked the truck, shoving first my own grocery bag onto the passenger seat before turning back to Embry and reaching for his. "Thanks."

"It's–"

My fingers brushed against his as I was about to take it, but I jerked violently away when I felt the heat radiating away from him. All of my food would have crashed to the ground if Embry hadn't managed to catch the bag swiftly and with an eerily graceful ease. Once the slight shock had retreated from his face, all that was left was confusion.

"Hey, what's wrong?" The concern in his voice was just too over the top, too much for this particular situation. Another person may have just thought that my hands had slipped or perhaps I was distracted momentarily, but Embry had been watching my movements the whole time.

"Nothing. I'm fine." Embry refused to hand me the bag though, even holding it away as I stepped forward. "Seriously, I'm good."

Eventually he relented and allowed me the opportunity to turn away, ducking my head to avoid further questioning. I could feel my face burning with embarrassment and something else… recognition. His blazing temperature was unnaturally high, only reminding me of _his_. I hadn't seen Paul, felt his touch since nearly two weeks ago standing on the beach, my wrist captured by his hand, my body forced into contact with his toned pectorals… and those abdominal muscles that felt kinda soft under my palm…

The gasp that rattled through me when I remembered Embry behind me was loud enough to grab his attention. I heard him mutter some incomprehensible words before he leaned back against the truck beside me, his choppy black hair fluttering lightly in the constant breeze and those dark eyes boring into the side of my skull.

"Are you gonna tell me what's up?" he asked slowly, using his elbow to knock mine. Great, he wasn't going to drop it.

"Embry, no. There's just so much _crap_ going on and another problem to add to the pile is not gonna help anyone." I referred to the primary issue at hand that was wreaking havoc with my personal plans but Embry just shrugged it off and looked decidedly unworried.

"He's fine, Rachel. Jake will come back when he's cooled off, trust me." Embry's eyes twinkled for a moment before they became more guarded and scrutinising. "What's Billy told you?" I snorted derisively, closing the truck door and joining Embry in his leaning.

"Practically nothing – Dad told me when he left and that I shouldn't worry! He won't let Charlie do anything either." About two days after Jacob had gone, Charlie Swan came round with some fliers wanting to stick them up in La Push. For some unexplained, _idiotic_ reason Billy wouldn't let him do it. I found them in the trash later that night and after the ensuing argument, I hadn't talked to my Dad for days. "Why is he so… infuriating?"

"'Cus he can be." Embry sighed, which strangely served to fuel my anger further.

"Because he can be?" I repeated dumbstruck at the silly explanation. Embry nodded and avoided meeting my eyes when I turned to look up at him.

"Maybe it's better not knowing why he did it," he suggested carefully. He was hiding something from me; that much was evident from the way he said it and how he brushed it off. He didn't seem worried by recent events, like everything would resolve itself eventually. We stayed silent for a several moments, each of us alone in our thinking.

Embry shrugged again, his eyes flicking to catch mine for a second. "Well, nothing we can do now, right?"

"I guess."

A few more seconds passed in silence before Embry caught my attention. He was following the path of an approaching figure who I too then observed with a curious gaze. The person was walking right toward us, and I found myself unable to look away. "Look," Embry said thoughtfully, "I'll get Quil and we'll come by and see you in a few days."

"Ok, sounds good," I murmured, too distracted to give him my full attention anymore.

"Bye then."

"Bye…" The entirety of my conscious mind was focused from that moment on_him_, who kept his eyes on me during his whole approach.

Paul stopped two paces away, near enough for me to extend my arm and touch him if I so wanted. My breathing deregulated as he studied my face and I couldn't bring myself to even feel self-conscious about it. I took the quiet between us as an opening, allowing myself to examine him in return. He was clad very simply in a pair of fairly battered sneakers, denim cut-offs hanging from his hips and a sleeveless t-shirt with a small 'v' cut neckline that hinted at the torso beneath. The sight of him in it brought the memory of him shirtless straight back to me again and I bit my bottom lip to avoid another gasp.

Paul's eyes zeroed in on it, his own pink lips parting a tiny bit so I unnecessarily continued to bit it alluringly before letting it escape. Just like the first time we had met, Paul and I raked our eyes over one another although on this occasion at a much more leisurely pace. I was drawn to his large hands as he removed them from his pant pockets: although the skin appeared somewhat roughened, I knew they were in fact quite pliant and deceptively strong. Eventually I returned to his face, finding Paul to have been carefully watching my mental dissection off him. That crooked smile soon returned as he met my eyes with a wickedly sexy gaze before he uttered slowly, "Rachel."

I became conscious of the fact that other than that word, neither us had made a noise.

"Paul," I murmured in response, a new itch telling me to touch him. As if he read my mind, Paul stepped forward until our bodies were only inches apart. Despite looming over me, I knew instinctively that Paul wouldn't try and hold anything over me, let alone hurt me intentionally. The top of my head barely surpassed his chin as I tilted my head back fractionally to maintain our eye contact.

"I haven't seen you for days," he breathed huskily, his hands unhurriedly removing themselves from his pant pockets.

"I know," I whispered back, scared to raise my voice any louder as if it would scare him away.

"You're wearing that scarf again."

"It's a nice scarf," I told him, repeating what I'd retorted with when he mentioned it two weeks ago.

"And you're wearing glasses. They look good on you."

That smile again… I hoped that he hadn't noticed the reddening of my cheeks as they began burning again. It seemed he had though and lifted his right hand to brush his thumb across my blush. My eyes fluttered shut as his other hand found my hip under my long cardigan; he gripped me at the indent of my waist with a comforting but simultaneously stirring gesture. I held Paul's arm in place as my left hand rose up to gingerly touch his chest, dragging my nails down a short way before flattening my palm again him. I opened my eyes fractionally as he released a small hiss and I felt his chin graze my temple.

I wanted to turn my head towards his, to stretch up and pull him down to my level and fulfil the desire that had been plaguing me the past few nights. He'd been all I was thinking of in those moments when I was alone, and the urge… no, the physical _need_ to have him beside me, touching me even if just briefly was overpowering, especially in this moment when it felt as if the rest of the world was just a distant dream. It was just Paul and I in those few seconds, but how long could it last? A minute, a few, an hour before someone or something pushed us apart? Was he even having the same thoughts as me? As in, was he experiencing a corresponding attraction to the one I felt? He must feel some level of it to be standing here with me right now, unless he…

No, he had to. I was drawn between wishing he did and not wanting him to. I was scared in that moment of what would result from this and his feelings and mine all jumbled up together. Would we be able to work together or would things fall apart… I wanted to stay alone with him in the moment forever, but my conflicting thoughts and emotions scrambled my brain to the point that they were physically evident, even to Paul who soon moved his head away and lifted my chin up to meet his intense stare.

"Rachel, what's wrong?" he murmured slowly, not removing his hand from my face or surrendering his hold elsewhere. What was I doing? How might I even try to vocalise how I was feeling right now without sounding like a fool? And how was Paul able to preoccupy my mind like this when I should be focused on my family, not to mention my future? I didn't have a future in La Push, especially not with _him_. It wasn't sensible letting him take up residence in my consciousness, just because I had a _crush_ on him. I had to push him away and fight these silly, immature feelings!

"No, no, I can't!" I whispered hoarsely, reluctantly relinquishing my hands from his body. Paul wasn't making it easy for me to get away though: he refused to let go of me, trying to coax me back into his warm arms where I felt like I belonged. I resorted to trying to push his hands away but Paul just caught my wrists and held me captive. "Please, let go…"

And like that he removed himself from me completely, rubbing his hands through his cropped hair like it was taking all of his willpower to not touch me again. "Rachel, please!" He eyes along with his voice pleaded me to reconsider and return to how things had been moments ago. "Don't-don't do this…"

"I'm sorry." The effort is required to keep all sorts of emotions from entering my words – anguish, guilt, self-loathing – was tormenting as I backed up to the hood of the truck and briskly stepped around it to the driver's side. I just about managed to climb in and sneak a glance in Paul's direction, only to catch a glimpse of his retreating back as he headed toward the nearest line of trees and disappeared into the forest.


	4. Interlude

**Interlude**

They were all waiting for him, either sat or standing around the kitchen as Sam and Sue helped Billy up the porch steps and into the house. Most of the pack was there: the only missing members were Leah, Brady and, of course, Jacob.

No-one spoke as both Billy and Sue settled themselves in the remaining two spaces at the table while Sam took up his post beside his fiancée, Emily. Paul sat quietly two seats away from the tribal chief, separate by Embry and flanked by Kim. What could he say to the man whose daughter he had imprinted upon? Given her reaction to him yesterday, Billy would undoubtedly be unwilling to listen to anything Paul had to say. Yes, the older man knew how powerful the bond of imprinting was, but when Billy had watched Rachel return home, a bundle of nervous energy with reddened eyes loathe to utter a word on the proceedings, he felt little sympathy for Paul.

Embry wanted more than anything for someone to break the silence. He may not have always seen eye-to-eye with Paul but he had seen how badly the secret was injuring Rachel, and if this was what it took to see her looking and feeling better then he had no problem teaming up. It was because of Embry after all that Rachel and Paul had been together the previous day, so of course he could not refrain from blaming part of the problem at hand on himself. The look he sent Sam a second after thinking this was self-explanatory: _Tell him or I will_.

"Billy," Sam began, unfolding his arms from his chest and slipping one around Emily's waist. "Someone needs to tell Rachel about us."

"I know, but she won't listen easily," Billy sighed reluctantly, lacing his fingers together in a careful manner.

"She knows the histories?"

"But she doesn't believe them – never has." It had been many years since Billy had read bedtime stories to any of his children, but he could clearly recall the expressions on both his daughter's faces when he'd recited the tale of spirit warriors becoming wolves. Rebecca had been instantly enraptured by the idea of shapeshifting men, but not Rachel; she had taken him to be a liar, demanding that he tell her a true story. No matter how hard he had tried to convince her, she remained stubborn and ignorant of the truth.

"The girl has a few trust issues," Sue chipped in, her hands moving to rest gracefully on the worn table as she surveyed all the faces in the kitchen before halting her intensely scrutinising gaze on Paul. "Don't hurt her, because you've got a hell of a time convincing her to begin with."

In the corner of the kitchen, Collin shifted uncomfortably as he sat on the counter. More so than the rest of the present pack, he would have been extremely unlikely to say anything in a similar situation due to his young age and status as one of the pack 'pups'. But as his uncle and his alpha discussed his cousin so openly, an old memory swam to the surface of his mind. His slight movement was enough to draw the attention of many of the werewolves, like they could sense his anxiousness. Jared was the first one to see he wanted to say something. "What's up, man?"

All eyes were on him now. While Collin may have like Jared and Kim as a general rule for not treating him as a little kid, unlike several of the others, this was one of the few times he felt like hitting something or someone specifically.

"Uh, well… Rachel used to tell me the stories, but she didn't usually act like they weren't real. I mean, she used to say every story was based on something true, so maybe…" Maybe she was more open to the idea of them than they'd all believed. The collective thoughts of the assembled group reflected that one notion simultaneously. Billy himself had never heard his daughter express that sentiment, but if it were true, his and Paul's tasks would be a great deal easier.

Billy nodded at his nephew slowly, stating carefully, "I hope you're right about that."

Much of the blood drained out of Collin's face in those seconds as Paul also met his wary eyes, his own hard and unreadable. If he was wrong in his thinking then at least he'd be sure of one angry werewolf on his case.

"All the same," Billy continued slowly, "My daughter isn't going to listen to many people at this moment in time."

Billy had felt the resentment Rachel had brewed inside of herself, the vast majority of it aimed at him initially for allowing her younger brother to leave and more importantly for holding back information regarding his reasons, whereabouts and well-being. He'd been meticulous in tucking the wedding invitation away in his bedroom where Rachel wouldn't snoop or accidently come across it, altogether omitting any mention of Jacob's affection for Bella Swan. Billy even rejected Charlie's offer to file a report and rebuffed attempts to drop by, especially while Rachel was in the house, in order to protect both of his children.

As Billy's spoken words faded again, Emily Young seized upon an idea that had struck her mind earlier that day. "What if Kim and I bring her over here? Gain her trust and make her comfortable around us before she learns about the pack?"

Kim's eyes met Emily's for a brief second and widened momentarily before she smiled mischievously. "I suppose that would work. Plus that way we'd be able to on Paul – make sure he doesn't do something… rash again."

Her imprint, Jared, squeezed her shoulder gently in warning when they both found themselves on the receiving end of an enraged glare from Paul; the night before, Kim had quite effortlessly wormed a few things about Paul and Rachel's interactions from him as he was falling asleep. Several titters of laughter cropped up around the room at the shared memory of Paul's strikeout; he'd inadvertently broadcasted the whole scenario to all phased pack members seconds after it occurred, even earning him an infuriated response from the now generally silent Jacob. It hadn't taken long after that for details of the incident to be circulated around to all other unaware werewolves.

"How about that, Billy?" Emily asked once the laughter had died down, quite pleased with the idea.

"If you think it will work." She nodded, smiling slowly as Sam pulled her closer to him and looked at her with complete adoration.

One step closer to bringing Rachel into the pack, Emily added, "I'll come round tomorrow then."

Embry, still dissatisfied with the proceedings, asked in a rare show of his more serious voice, "Who's gonna tell her then?"

His thoughts had switched from feelings of guilt to predicting the various degrees of insanity each person – Billy, Paul, Emily, even himself – would display if they attempted to make Rachel believe the truth, however improbable it would seem. Still doubtful at how well Paul and Billy would prospectively explain the situation to her, he was not willing to cut corners when it came to her. Quil too appeared to be thinking along the same lines, raising his eyebrows for a moment as they had a private, silent conversation. Seeing as Jacob wasn't present to watch over Rachel, it was only fitting that his two best friends fill in temporarily.

"Yeah," Quil agreed, swapping eye contact to Paul after a few more seconds. "Paul kinda promised to tell Rach everything. And no offence, Billy, but she's not going to trust anything you say considering…"

Billy was forced to agree, although he wasn't too happy about it. The words that had left his mouth were all intended to shelter Rachel from the wider realities of their world and the monsters that inhabited it for as long as possible, but all of that would soon come to an abrupt, unfortunate end. It was all Billy could do now to cushion the blow.

"Alright, if you believe he's competent." It was the first time he'd acknowledged Paul's presence as more than another face in the group throughout the meeting. "Make a repeat performance of yesterday and you won't see her again."

His words immediately led Paul to question just how much Billy Black knew what had transpired. He also understood that the threat had been more of a statement, as if Billy wouldn't need to say anything to keep Rachel away from him. He could easily watch her from the trees during the day, trying to resist the urge to phase back and go banging on the front door, demanding to see her. After spending whole nights prowling around their house to feel closer to her, on several occasions sleeping beneath her window and leaving at first light, Rachel not wanting to leave the property would not be his biggest problem. Did that mean she wasn't planning on staying in La Push? Thinking back, Paul remembered her mentioning a job offer; where was it though? Nearby or in a city where Paul couldn't possibly explain any sudden appearances in? If that was true, he'd have to find some way of convincing her to stay. If she tried, the pain would be enough to kill him surely. No. She had to stay in La Push, no matter what it took.

As Billy prepared to leave a short time later, Paul spoke his first words since talking to Rachel: "I won't."

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><p><strong>Phoenica<strong> - Thanks for your review earlier! I added a few extra bits in this chapter after reading it so I hope it answers your questions about why Rachel hasn't been told about the werewolves, despite a fair number of the people she knows being involved with the pack. As for Jacob, knowing that Paul imprinted on his sister had very little to do with why he ran away: as I noted above, I'm giving the arrival of Bella's wedding invitation as the main cause because Jacob has finally realised that Bella has chosen Edward over him. Jake_ knows_ that Paul would do anything to make Rachel happy despite his general feelings about imprinting (like he expressed in Breaking Dawn: Part 1), although I can't say that Paul messing up outside the general store helped much. And don't worry about Paul and Rachel - everything will be resolved by the last chapter! BB xx


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